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Poem	there are eyes that refuse to exist in the fresh air - they are invented by the lies of paint or make their mark in a memory that had a truth to feed on but only by distortion right now they sell a dream i'd like to see the back of - they come with a whole body rippling me apart disturbing me with echoes of a flesh so many layers down the light derides it why can't i grasp it now this love's reverberation of a sound that tunes me deeper than my marrow but runs from me when wanted to be real (today's a dried pool whispering of an ocean) the eyes (unreal or not) persist life is at base such unreality - it stirs surfaces through pretences who i am each a wash of wish (its listless traces the febrile flickings of a tight core's ends) i'm struggling now for safety want something from these diadems this old light scores in me - these eyes cradling me as i look through them (won't let me go and i can't let them) beyond love they cup aloneness they're your eyes but my at-one-ment (more to sing of than i can fathom) sensing them calmly's the ripest pain these eyes so poignant they daren't exist
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